编辑文：
Gradually, I have more patients and my income has increased. I have to save some money for an emergency but not too much. Even if I have more money, I have no place to put it. Therefore, for the poor patients, I charge less or even no fees. I remember my father was also a doctor. He said when I was a child, "a dollar may not be anything for the rich, but it's not easy for the poor!" One night, I was about to sleep in Uncle Da'an's hut when I heard someone crying from afar. When I saw a couple carrying a child running desperately to me, calling "the third elder brother" (they usually call me that), help! Help! "It's changed. Their four-year-old child suddenly twitches, loses consciousness, and his eyes turn white. I touched the hot boy. I took his temperature and gave him a quick check of the heart, lungs, abdomen and nervous system during this period. But his temperature is 40.6 degrees Celsius. I immediately wiped his groin on his forehead and armpit with a wet and cold towel and injected him with antipyretic. In less than half an hour to start down, the child woke up, his parents greatly relieved. I gave them more medicine and told them to call their children every four hours. If there is any problem, call me right away. Just then, I noticed a crowd gathered outside the door. They said it was lucky that the third brother came. Otherwise, if the boy is sent to the hospital, he may not survive the trip. In fact, a child with a convulsive fever is really terrible, but convulsions are usually

原文：
Gradually I had more patients and my income increased. I had to have some savings for urgent
needs but did not have need for much beyond that. Even if I had had more money, I had nowhere to put
it. Therefore, for poor patients I charged less or even nothing. I recalled my father, also a doctor, saying
when I was a child, "One yuan may be nothing for the rich; but is not easy for the poor!"
One evening, as I was going to sleep in Uncle Daan’s hut, I suddenly heard someone crying and
yelling from faraway. Alerted, I stood up and started out when I saw a couple holding a child and
running desperately to me, calling “Brother Third (They usually called me such), help! help!” It turned
out that their child of four had a sudden convulsion and lost consciousness, his eyeballs turning white.
I touched the boy who was very hot. I measured his temperature and during that time gave him a
quick check of heart, lung, abdomen and nervous system and found nothing abnormal. But his
temperature was 40.6 C. I immediately rubbed him with a cold damp towel on the forehead, armpits
and groin, and gave him an injection of a fever reducing drug. In less than half an hour the temperature
began to come down, the child awoke and his parents were greatly relieved. I gave them more medicine
and told them to dose the child every four hours; if there was any further problem, call me immediately.
It was then I noticed a crowd of people gathering outside the door. They said it was fortunate that
Brother Third was here. Otherwise, if the boy were sent to the hospital, he might not have survived the
journey. In fact, a child with convulsion and high fever was indeed very scary, but the convulsion
usually happened just once and if there were no other problems, the child usually would be alright. I
reassured the parents that they should not worry too much.
The next morning, I went to the boy’s home to follow-up and found the child playing happily in
the front yard. His parents, preparing to go to work, seeing me, smiled with relief and thanked me again
and again. I also felt comfortable and relaxed that things had turned out well. If I were in China, I
thought, what would happen to me now? Criticized and denounced? Paraded through the streets with a
board hanging on my neck? Sent to forced labor? Or confined to a bullpen to write self-criticism and
self-depreciation?
One year during winter, there was an epidemic of measles and many children in Dong Hoa were
infected. I was busy every day and had to look after seriously ill children at night. When residents from
other communes requested me to go there, Dong Hoa villagers reluctantly lied that I was not available.
Regardless, a man from Dong Ngu came to me and said his four children were ill and one of them was
"lost.” I hesitated, realizing that if I visited there just once I might not solve the problem. Also, his
neighbors might ask me to treat their children, making it impossible for me to leave. However, I had
treated his family before, had a meal and slept in his home, so it seemed unjust to refuse. I went with
him that evening, and asked him not to inform his neighbors.
Entering the door, I found a Buddhist master walking back and forth in the hall. He muttered
prayers supposed to help ward off evil. On the ledge under an ancestral tablet was a pair of lit candles
and a cooked chicken for consecration. The sick child’s father, thinking I might be unhappy at this
sight, hastily explained that the god had to be prayed to and the doctor also had to be sought. I
understood their anxiety and said it did not matter to me. I treated the disease and the master did his
work, too. At dinner, the master and I sat together and conversed politely. The main dish was the
consecrated chicken, an unexpected treat indeed!
After a busy night, I returned Dong Hoa the next morning. Although very tired, I felt relieved that
I had done the right thing.
Another day a resident of Dong Hai commune came and requested me to go with him for help.
He said that his three children infected with measles all had high fevers. Dong Hai Commune was
about 10 kilometers away. Because I had been busy for all day and had a child with a high fever
receiving intravenous drip, I reluctantly declined and watched him leave in disappointment. Later I
learned that one of his children died and felt a pang of guilt.
A patient from a neighboring county came to see me. He was in his 20s, skinny and short, and his
eyes shifted up and down as he talked. The young man was suffering from an acute urinary tract
infection; I gave him antibiotics and told at least seven days of treatment was required. He agreed,
saying that after completion of the treatment he would pay me in full. But after five days, thinking he
was well, the young man left without paying. He spread rumors in town that his treatment by “the
Chinese guy Deng Third” had caused no improvement and even made him worse.
When this slander reached Dong Hoa, the villagers were indignant at him. I felt powerless
knowing that my five injections had brought his symptoms under control but did not mean the infection
was cured and likely would relapse. Sure enough, two weeks later the young man returned to see me.
Dong Hoa villagers urged me to ignore him and I was tempted to do so. However, my sense of
professional responsibility told me otherwise. If I didn't complete his treatment, the infection could
become chronic and afflict him for a lifetime. That was too great a punishment. Therefore, I continued
treatment but asked him to pay each time.
"The same rice feeds various people.” the villagers said.
Penicillin Anaphylactic Shock
A female villager had sore throat. It was tonsillitis so I was going to give her an injection of
penicillin. When I was in China, penicillin injection had to be skin tested first. Here it was
impracticable to do so because I might use penicillin only once in several days. Preparing a dilution for
dozens of skin tests without injections would be wasteful. So if the patient had no previous injection of
penicillin, I would apply a drop of penicillin on the patient’s skin and prick it a few times to test for
allergy, then give the injection. Although this was not completely reliable, and might even cause
anaphylactic shock, it still was preferable to direct injection with no pre-test. As a precaution, I placed
an ampoule of adrenaline and an ampoule of promethazine in the syringe box to use in case of
emergency.
The tonsillitis patient said that she had several previous injections of penicillin. Not believing she
would have an allergic reaction, I proceeded with the shot. Unexpectedly, in just a minute or two, the
patient panicked and complained of itching over her entire body. I knew at once it was anaphylaxis (an
acute allergic reaction), so I immediately took out the adrenaline, with a "pop" tore open the ampoule to
draw out the liquid, and quickly gave her an injection. Right after the injection, the patient felt her heart
pounding madly and burst out screaming. I was scared. Fortunately, she soon calmed down. Trembling,
I then gave her an injection of an anti-allergic drug. Fortunately, everything turned out well.
My fears lingered after this incident. If the patient had died from the anaphylactic shock, not only
her family and friends would suffer forever, but I also would suffer forever. As I was an illegal "bordercrossed
Chinese" doctor, what my fate be? My situation was so fragile that any mistake or accident
might affect my destiny. I had escaped catastrophe once again. Thank God, I thought. May the Lord
continue to help me.